The Nothing I've Become
by Jacques Daniels
Summary: ... I have no clue. Read on, friend. Not exactly R, and not exactly PG-13 either. An experiment, of sorts.


_The Nothing I've Become_

Anime- Gundam Wing

Rating- R... ish. Not to explicit. (mass horror at the thought) What?! I wanted to try something new. At least THIS thing won't get me kicked off yet.

Genre- Um... Angst. Romance. Angsty goodness... It's all good.

Pairing- Heero/Duo. Just so you know.

What's Mine- The story, my name, my mindless ramblings, and a criminal record like Jack the Ripper's.

What's Not- (sniffle) Gundam Wing, the lyrics, and any talent

Author's Note- I am not sure what came over me while writing this, but I wanted to be as vague as possible, and still make sense. I like how it turned out. But I had a hell of a time coming up with synonyms... Ah well. Lemme know what you think.

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It began with the Silence, I guess. It happened so quickly and so suddenly that it was almost frightening. But then, Death isn't afraid of anything, is it? It was first the hush. Like everything around was moving but me. That made sense considering the war had ended, the Deathscythe was gone, we went our separate ways. I returned to the junkyard with Hilde, looking forward to some R&R. But the inactivity must have caught up with me. It happened when I was sweeping up the office. I paused and just looked up out the window, and realized that nothing was moving. I saw old car hoods, rusted bolts the size of houses, twisted side rails... all dead and mangled. Nothing alive, nothing moving, nothing out there but the old and the used up. I could hear the rush of vans and cars on the road elsewhere, but the wall obscured it. Nothing... Hilde told me later that it took her three tries to get my attention. But when she did, her voice sounded earsplitting in the still air. She asked if I was all right, and I brushed her off, flashing a smile, cracking a joke. Mask in place, per usual.

But it got worse. The stillness got worse, happening more and more, sucking me away into another world entirely, for minutes at a time. Hilde didn't see it after the first time, I made sure of that. Every time I felt the world slow, I made an excuse to leave, to go off alone. But then I felt more than heard the sound slip away, the whole damn world just seize up and pause in rotation, leaving me behind. Only me, alone, without a single other life form. I was lost. But something would always snap me back before I could fall into the void that loomed just on the edge of my sight. A car horn blaring. A door slamming. At one point, a clap of thunder. I would suck in a breath and hold it, just to listen to the movement and human existence around me, and to feel my heart beat in my ears. And for a while, that was enough to help me keep going.

Hilde knew something was wrong, but I never said a thing. She said she was worried, that I was 'zoning out' a lot lately. 'Zoning out'... Adapt way of putting it. Even my smiling mask wasn't fooling her anymore. What could I tell her? That I was fading away into the land of Death, where I belonged? That the world was screeching to a halt, kicking me off, and then speeding away into the distance? That I was slowly but surely losing my mind? The last seemed most fitting. Was I losing it? Did the horror of the war finally manifest itself into my mind as consuming madness?

_My spirit slaving somewhere cold..._

I withdrew more after that. I didn't want Hilde to see me this way. In whatever way I got when the Silence hit. I didn't know. I was always fixed, surrounded by the Silence of Death. My assumed name had never seemed more real. I was defiantly losing it. Even if time was running normally, I wasn't all there. I walked into walls, I tripped over my own feet... my mind was elsewhere. And when _it_ seized me, I just lost track of everything that was me. I made a discovery, while in the odd throes of the Silence. Wherever my mind was hurling me, it was cold. Bitter, arctic cold. So cold that there was no point in sleeping anymore, I'd just shiver myself awake. No point in eating anymore, it was just a diamond-hard lump in my stomach.

The humming stillness followed me back to reality, and I just became disconnected from it all. I was feeling the chill all the time, so I wore my coat whenever possible. I stopped walking into walls, but instead just lost all concept of sound. I tried working harder; to maybe keep myself warm, to drown the Silence in menial tasks. But the cold was bone deep, soul deep. Hilde at one point tried to ask me something, I could tell that much, but I didn't know what. She finally mimed 'Make Some Noise'. She looked genuinely freaked out. So when I did the dishes next, I clanked the plates and silverware together. Or at least until a plate broke in my hand. I didn't even know until Hilde grabbed and shook me. I looked down and saw slivers in my fist, blood running down to drip on the shards I was standing on. I couldn't even feel it. Couldn't feel the tears that I knew were falling.

_Before I come undone..._

The day that sound fled altogether was the day Hilde called for help. She wrote everything down for me, asking if she should call the doctor. I curled up under a quilt on my bunk and shook my head no. She asked if I wanted food. No. She asked me to sleep. No. She asked what was wrong. I shivered. In the end, I guess she called _him_. Have no idea why, but she did. Maybe she thought he could talk some sense into me. As if he ever talked...

I was blank, I guess, the lights off, staring at the wall that moved like ocean waves. At least it moved, even if it didn't make a sound. But it wasn't alive. I couldn't even see Hilde anymore, even though I knew she had been there. But something shocked me 'awake'. It certainly wasn't a sound, more of a presence, and aura of strength that I knew well. I didn't even have to look to see who it was. I knew, just like he knew when I was in a room. But I looked, and so did he. Our eyes met and it was a comfort to see that he hadn't changed at all. Maybe he got a bit taller, but hell. It was good to see him, even under the circumstances.

He didn't speak, which was a blessing. As I studied him, it seemed like he was surrounded by a halo of glory, as the light from the hall filtered in. Sober and still. He pushed from the doorjamb that he had been leaning on, and moved towards me. If I hadn't been frozen solid, I would have gone tense. But he didn't do anything other than sit of the hard bunk next to me. It was an effort to turn and look at him. The hall light still spilled into the room, bathing him in a golden glow. Clear blue eyes looked at me dispassionately. I never realized how much I missed that about him. He never showed anything. Like a stone sculpture, solid and untouchable.

I couldn't move even if I had wanted to, as he reached over to lightly touch the quilt I had pulled over my head. I imagined that I could almost feel the pressure. Almost. I watched him, as the fabric edge slid from my sight, to pool around my neck. I shuddered on reflex, but almost immediately a hand pass pushed into my view, fingers cupping my cheek. I blinked slowly. I could feel that. Sort of. A light pressure, a slight pull of skin catching on skin. A feather touch. But so wonderful compared to the icy tomb that I was encased in. I would have leaned into it if I could without falling over. Instead, I just sat and stared at him.

_How can you see into my eyes like open doors?_

His eyes seemed to consume me. Almost like the silence, but not the horrible lifelessness of it. No, they were sparking and alive, swimming with all the shades of blue from robin's egg to deep violet. I had never noticed that before. I had never noticed how that fringe of dark lashes looked like lace as if drifted against his cheekbones. I had never noticed how those cheekbones cast deep shadow on his face, all the way down to his lips. I was wrong. He wasn't a statue. That hand was warm against my face. Hot, even. A slow, seeping fire that awoke my nerves, until I could feel the skin come back to life. It hurt, a little, but I didn't know if I could wince. Maybe it was my eyes that gave me away.

Both hands were cupping my face now, trickling electric heat into me, unfreezing my face, my eyes... but not my mind. Still shrouded in that bleak stillness. He watched me intensely, almost uncomfortably so. Even if I could move, I wouldn't have. It felt too good, the heat of another person, a living, breathing human being willing to touch me. I think I sighed. Maybe I smiled a little. Whatever it was, it made his eyes narrow, his grip tighten ever so slightly. It would have hurt, if the pins and needles had not been assaulting my flesh. But I felt a slow trail of warmth as he brushed a slow thumb up to my nose, tracing its contours, slipping up the bridge of it to my brow. It traced a path across my forehead to my eyes. They fluttered closed involuntarily. My eyelids felt the flame that he sent into me as both thumbs brushed across the delicate skin.

I felt more awake now, more aware of what was happening. I felt the skin of my face flush with blood, banishing the cold that held the rest of my in a death grip. My eyes opened, and the room began to swim back into focus, no longer a haze beyond his shoulder. I could see him more clearly as well. Or had he moved closer? His hands now dropped lower, one resting on the quilt that clothed my shoulder, the other resting on my brow still. It was drawn down, touching eyes, nose, mouth... It was a shock, the heat that flooded trough my lips, releasing them from the grip of ice. They opened as I gasped. The fingers lingered there, tracing them carefully, completely. Life was flooding back at his touch.

_Wake me up inside!_

My eyes were wide, my mouth opening and closing as he leaned forward, both hands now going to my neck, sliding against the skin, tickling the small hairs at the nape, dipping down into the black recess of the quilt, spreading the warmth like oil, dribbling it down my back in shivers. I tipped forward at his faint tug, and I found myself resting against his powerful form, his entire heat soaking through the fabric into the very fiber of my being. I could _feel_ his lips pressed against my hairline, _feel_ his breath gust across my brow. Those lips moved, but I heard nothing. My throat constricted around what I knew was a helpless noise.

_Breathe into me and make me real... _

He seemed to understand, those soft lips gliding down to press against an eye, a cheek, lower, lower, _lower_... They finally, _finally_ came to rest on my own mouth, pressing softly. Everything warmed to that touch, and I thought I could hear a heartbeat. I guess I wanted to say something, because my mouth opened beneath his. But whatever I was thinking was lost when a fiery tongue swept in to brush mine. I could taste it now, a smoky sort of tang that was so addicting that I reached out with my own tongue to sample it once more. Rough velvet and hickory smoke.

He pulled back, and I could almost hear my small noise of regret. I watched his eyes smile so close to my own. I could see him, I could still taste him on my tongue, I could almost _(so close)_ feel his touch everywhere his warmth all over. He breathed his life into me, bringing me back from that brink of darkness that had oozed into my system, freezing me with its poison. Gossamer caresses, his lips brushing across my cheek to ear. Yes, I could feel his warm breath. I could feel his hair drifting against my skin, feather soft and dark. That same liquid fire traced the shell of my ear, warming the blood that I could hear in my own veins.

_Bring me to life..._

I could hear. The Silence was gone. I could hear the rush of his breath, the beat of his heart, the throbbing of my own blood. So loud and so welcome that I almost sobbed. Almost. But the ice still held my heart, my body. But that didn't, _couldn't_ stop me from pressing against him, against his glow as hard as I could. Bask in that sun like radiance that I had taken for granted. The existence that I, until now, had never appreciated. I had been Death. But if this freezing hell was Death, they could have it. Let me live.

_You can't just leave me..._

I could see him again as he pulled away, the warmth gone. I know I whimpered then. I could hear it. The soft little cry of a puppy missing its mother. Whatever God was out there, Death or not, do not let him leave me here. Don't let him leave me to face the silence alone. Not again.

Relief, stark and beautiful as I was pulled close once more. The quilt was guided down further, revealing more of my shuddering form to his swirling gaze. If the sweet rapture I was feeling was beautiful, then he was breathtaking enough to put any God to shame. Large hands gliding down my back, spreading that burning oil, kneading knotted muscles with unbelievable power and tenderness. I relaxed for what seemed like the first time in years, my head drifting against his shoulder. There was nothing for me to do but rest and soak it all in, flower to sun. Gods above...

Blood ignited beneath his touch as it brushed across my stomach, to trace the cold zipper of my coat. Pushing back the desolate quiet, not just below the surface, but searing it from my body entirely. Fingers pressed against my arms, squeezing the muscles there. Dragging down to my wrists, to my hands clenched in the fabric of my quilt. Easing the fingers up, loosening the death-grip. I suddenly could feel the scrapes from the glass that marred my knuckles. His fingers intertwined with mine, so warm.

I have to look at him now, as he holds my hands so carefully, while he held me so close. I had to see if this was real, if this respite from darkness was a cruel joke played by life, or... The answer was there, for he was looking for the same answers. I knew this, because we both were shocked as the other looked back. So close, and so warm. This time I could feel the tears. And I felt the softness of his lips, as he tasted them. A lump formed in my throat, choking me as I cried. But I could gasp out a small cry as I flung my arms around his neck, burying my face in his shoulder, feeling that soft hair between my fingers, and his own arms around me, and... just _feeling_.

The metallic rivving of the zipper sliding down, the rustle of cloth being pulled off hunched shoulders. My back arched on it's own as that blaze shot downwards without any help but my own desire and feel of those lips pressed against my neck, that tongue, and dear God, those eyes...

_Find it there, in me..._

The quilt was gone now, the jacket somewhere with it, and when had my shirt... Hands pushing up my skin, nails tasting and scoring me to life. My mouth closing on flesh, teeth holding on, eyes clenched tight, hands busy with a damn shirt that clung to a chest of bronze. God, was that me making that high, keening noise? It didn't feel like him. But those calloused fingers against that small circle of silver, those felt like him. That smoldering breeze against my ear, that felt like him. Liquid fire in my veins, elation of breath in my deprived lungs... all his, all him, all... all...

Those eyes above me, close, so close. My hand cupping that strong cheek. Blue, so blue and beautiful... I know, because I watched him as he watched me, our hands roaming over skin, nothing but bare, warm, silken skin, and the hint of steely strength beneath. That strength moving over me, around me... His hand was to my hair, combing through it, as I felt him against me, so close. I held him to me, just breathing with him, moving with him.

_Save me from the dark!_

It didn't matter that I had been on the brink of insanity. It didn't matter that the deadening pain that had resonated in my mind for so long. It didn't matter that the loneliness had made everything so bleak that Death would give in. All that mattered was him. Him, and that steady pull of fire that was so close, so close... There. Fire, light, elation, life... And him. Always him, and always will be. Cold forgotten, I curled against him, our arms and legs intertwined, our breaths mixing, our hearts beating.

_My spirit..._

The next time my eyes opened, I was looking at the window over his head. The daylight of the world outside flowed in easily, alighting his hair in a glory of highlights. It was so tempting now, to just lean in and be overwhelmed by the scent that had haunted me since the war. How I love him, laying before me as innocent as the angel I had always imagined him to be. I love this guy more than my own pathetic life itself. Which is why I had to go. I had been here too long, and had paid dearly for it.

I pulled on the clothing that had been so hastily thrown asides, and smiled down at him as he rolled over restlessly when I moved away. But as much as I would have liked to, I couldn't snuggle back into his arms again. What he had found was a moment of weakness, that was all. I couldn't stay here with him, couldn't stay and love him the way I wanted to.

I left that day, didn't even bid goodbye to Hilde. She would be upset, for a while. But he... he would understand. There was no way to explain the feeling that tells us to flee from that which we love. Distance is safety, no matter if the war was over or not. And that was something he would have to know.

_Wake me up inside!_

After all. He had left me first.

_owari_

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Yes, I am aware of the lack of dialogue. As I said, it's an experiment. (shrugs) Reviews are good!


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